


easy touch, I bend for you

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [18]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alien Culture, Collars, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Handfeeding, Kneeling, Mild BDSM Vibes, Mission Fic, Or Is It?, Polyamory, Pre-Relationship, Some light angst, but mostly its cute, but theres no actual romance with riker and the other two, pretend submissive!tasha, the story is pretend data/tasha/riker, there are a lot of outfits and i enjoy every single one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Tasha has had too many bad experiences with diplomatic missions for comfort. She expects the trip to Katravarius to be more of the same.It isn't.
Relationships: Data/Tasha Yar
Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875274
Kudos: 19
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	easy touch, I bend for you

**Author's Note:**

> This fic covers the bingo prompt "pretend relationship" (but let's be real, it's a thin excuse for me to write some collaring fic). Tasha is just so tough, she deserves the chance to be soft and taken care of sometimes. And I do love writing alien cultures, especially where rituals, food, and clothing are concerned.

She’d said it before, and she’d say it again: Tasha hated diplomatic missions. It was bad enough when they were interacting with a culture that already had established ties to the Federation. Those missions almost universally involved pompous heads of state mock-genuflecting to the captain of the _Enterprise_ and his crew, and more than one of them had involved a kidnapping or bombing or some other political plot, which just went to show you that everybody lied through their teeth about just how peaceful and prosperous their worlds were. Tasha could put on a fake smile with the best of them, and it was always a relief when she could defer to Riker or Picard, let them handle the ceremony and politics. She’d been trained in diplomacy, of course, just like every other Starfleet officer. That didn’t mean she had to like it.

Data had cocked his head at her when she’d made the complaint, striding side by side down the corridor towards the observation lounge. “Since the beginning of our mission, there have been a number of diplomatic assignments you appeared to have enjoyed,” he pointed out. “Our mission to the planet Angel I, for example.”

“Up until they started threatening to kill people,” Tasha countered.

“And Rubicun III?”

“We had to break the Prime Directive just to keep Wesley from getting executed!”

Data gave a nod of acknowledgement. “And I suppose our visit to Ligon II became unpleasant relatively early in the mission.”

“Yeah, being kidnapped will do that.” Tasha sighed and shook her head. She crossed her arms. “Here’s hoping this one goes better, huh?”

“I suppose the briefing will give us a better idea.”

Tasha smiled. She’d served with Data on the _Enterprise_ for a year and a half now, and save for one incident early on – the incident that neither of them talked about – they’d become good friends. He could be a little odd, but frankly so could she. Tasha knew what it was like to stick out from the rest of Starfleet’s ideas of humanity, and she valued Data not only for his skill as an officer, but for his dedication to the best that humanity had to offer. His seemingly eternal optimism was refreshing. They balanced each other out.

The contents of the briefing put a severe damper on her spirits, reminding Tasha just why she hated diplomatic missions. The Yollor were a species just on the verge of space travel, which meant first contact procedures were in effect. They were also, according to the briefings, an _extremely_ rigid society with regards to their cultural norms, and deviation from said norms was looked on with great suspicion. So, while the Federation had already done the work of extending the initial hand of friendship, they weren’t quite ready to interfere with the Yollor’s idea that all civilized peoples would naturally gravitate towards the same kinds of practices. All of which totaled to the incredibly lengthy briefing report that Tasha currently held, and the absolutely absurd statement the captain had just made.

“They’re going to find out sooner or later that the rest of the universe isn’t like them!” she protested. “Do we really have to do this now?”

Picard’s expression was tight. “We have orders, Lieutenant. The Yollor have access to mineral resources which would be highly beneficial to the Federation. We cannot afford to alienate them at this juncture.”

“Counselor Troi should do it, then.” Tasha cast a desperate glance towards Deanna. “She’s better trained in politics, and as a Betazoid-“

“Counselor Troi’s Betazoid abilities do not work on the Yollor,” Picard interrupted. At the look of irritation that flashed across his face, Tasha shut her mouth and swallowed hard. He continued, “Lieutenant, you were chosen for this assignment deliberately. This mission has the potential to turn dangerous, and your position as security chief makes you best equipped to handle it, should any problems arise. I don’t want to hear any more arguments.”

Tasha bit down on her tongue. “Yes, sir.” She stared down at the table, avoiding Data and Riker’s eyes as Picard turned the floor over to the latter, who began outlining the parameters of the mission in broad strokes. It boiled down to what pretty much all of these things boiled down to: follow the rules, charm the political leaders, honor them in whatever way was appropriate and get out. There would be a feast, probably a tour, most likely a stay overnight and a morning making peace talks to help determine where the Yollor stood in opening diplomatic relations. And Tasha’s job was apparently to stand there and look pretty.

When she was dismissed, she hit the gym.

She was on the bench press, working her way through a second set when Data’s face appeared over her. “It is unwise to lift at that weight without a spotter.”

“So spot me,” Tasha huffed. She pointedly didn’t look at him, focusing on the strain in her arms as she completed the set, the bar clanging a little when she set it up again, hauling herself into a seated position. She wiped sweat from her brow. “Did you need something?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what? You haven’t done anything.”

“Given what you have told me about your history, along with your response at the briefing, I surmised that you would find the role Captain Picard assigned to you to be unsatisfactory.”

Tasha snorted. She stood, brushing past Data to get another set of weights, adding them on to either side of the bar and laying back down. She grabbed the bar, grunting as she forced herself to lift it off the rack. “What, you mean pretending to be your sex slave _isn’t_ my idea of a good time?”

The sarcasm in her voice was biting, but Data barely blinked. “That is an inaccurate assessment of the Yollorian culture. Your function is not a ‘sex slave,’ although I do see why you would draw that comparison.”

Tasha’s lip curled. “What difference does it make? My job is to sit there and simper while you and Riker do all the work. I might as well not be going at all.”

Data didn’t bat an eye. “To say that your role is to ‘simper’ is inaccurate. Yollorian triads are an important part of all their cultural proceedings, and the women serve a vital role in their society. We would appear either mistrustful or injudicious if we did not bring you with us to these meetings, and the Federation can afford neither interpretation.”

“Except it’s a complete sham! We aren’t _in_ a triad.” Tasha strained, her face contorting with the effort. “I’m not fucking you _or_ Commander Riker, and last time I checked you two definitely weren’t fucking each other.”

The strain on her arms suddenly vanished, and Tasha tilted her head back, glaring at Data, who had lifted the bar from her with one hand, apparently unconcerned with the weight. “You are being overly antagonistic,” Data informed her. “I understand. However, I do not think it is appropriate to direct it at me. I am your friend, as is Commander Riker. We will not do anything untoward towards you.”

“Unless the mission calls for it.” Tasha sat up again, and Data set the bar down. She studied him. “How can you do this, anyway? What happened to not being able to lie?”

“It is not a lie to state that I have a relationship with you and the commander. They are simply not the type of relationships the Yollor will assume we have.” Data considered for a moment. “Additionally, Doctor Soong designed me to be capable of telling non-truths in service of humans. I do believe this qualifies.”

“Glad you can justify it to yourself.” Tasha gripped the bench, kicking at the mat. “No offense, Data, but pretending to be in a relationship with a couple of my superior officers, especially one where I’m apparently supposed to be your submissive, isn’t exactly my idea of stellar mission parameters.”

“Because you were nearly sold into slavery.”

Tasha gave him a sharp look. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I do not pity you.”

The worst part was, he meant it. The knot of heat and anger in Tasha’s chest unfurled a little in the face of Data’s placid expression. He looked concerned, but he definitely didn’t look pitying. He sat beside her. “The Yollor invest a great deal of belief in the concept of harmony. They believe their arrangement natural: it seems only right to them that male partners should be bonded as a unit, as a demonstration of strength, with a joint female partner, as an expression of compassion.”

“It’s archaic.”

“Which part?”

“The idea that women have to be the weak ones. And the idea that there’s only one right way to have a relationship.”

Data nodded in agreement. “It is true that humanity has largely evolved beyond that particular belief. But the Yollor have not, and we are under orders to follow their customs.”

“And that’s why you’re apologizing,” Tasha sighed. She stared at the floor. “Because you’re my friend, and you don’t want me to have to do this any more than I do.”

“I do not enjoy making you uncomfortable, Tasha. If there were any way to circumvent these mission parameters, I would offer it. But I have studied the information in depth, and this is currently the only way the Yollor will trust us.”

“I know.” Tasha sprawled back on the bench, covering her face with her hands. “ _Fuck_. This isn’t why I joined Starfleet.”

“I will endeavor to make this experience as nontraumatic as possible.”

Tasha laughed. “You’re not going to traumatize me, Data. It just sucks, is all.”

“Perhaps. But we do not have a…I believe the expression is ‘good track record’ in that area.”

Ice went through Tasha. She swallowed. But Data didn’t edge any closer to mentioning that night. Instead, he stood. “If you require help going through your briefing packet, I will be available to assist.”

“I’ll let you know.”

He nodded, once, and then strode out of the gym. Tasha spent a minute just lying there, staring at the ceiling. She was going to pretend to be in a relationship with Data. With Riker too, but that was inconsequential. Riker was friendly, but he was also professional. Despite his tendency towards flirtation, he’d never put the moves on Tasha before – at least, not in any way that could be construed as serious – and she doubted he would now, even if the mission justified it. But Data…Tasha had spent months trying to fight it, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She was attracted to him. What had started out as friendship was…shifting. Maybe it was just her, but Tasha didn’t want Data to get the wrong idea. She wasn’t a submissive woman, in any stretch of the imagination. And if this mission sparked any of the things they hadn’t spoken about to life, Tasha would be damned if she was going to let Data think that she was going to behave like that in a real relationship. After the polywater incident, Data probably already had the wrong idea. She wasn’t about the give him a second one.

It probably wouldn’t be an issue. Tasha was used to keeping herself tightly under control, and Data was never one to pick up a hint unless it was dropped directly into his hand – and even then sometimes he missed it. She’d do the stupid mission, pretend that she was Data’s and Riker’s to keep, and then they’d come back and everything would go back to normal. It would be fine. She could do this.

***

Tasha took one look at the outfit that had been prepared for her and nearly backed out again. She’d initially assumed – hoped – that she’d at least get to do this in her dress uniform. She had been very much mistaken.

The dress was modeled off the standard fashion for women on Yollor. It was long, made up of uneven layers of fabric, arranged in folds and painted brightly to look a little like patterned butterfly wings. The bodice came up high, breaking off to be sleeveless and show off part of her back, but wrapping around her throat in a sort of pseudo-collar. The whole thing was studded with little silver stones, like jewels, and there were two pockets in the back, just above her hips. The latter might have been nice, if Tasha hadn’t known what they were for.

She forced herself to shrug it on, hissing in frustration as she fought first with the collar, then with getting the damn thing settled around her legs. She resisted the urge to say ‘fuck it’ and call Deanna in to do her makeup, glaring into the mirror as she painted her lips and eyes before turning the makeup pencil onto her cheek, her eyes flicking down to the picture on the PADD propped against the mirror as she sketched her best Starfleet logo onto the left cheek and a little bundle of circuitry onto the right. She set the pencil down and stared into the mirror, reaching up hesitantly to tousle her hair. It didn’t look like her. It looked like someone else had taken the body of Tasha Yar and was masquerading in it.

The door chimed, and then opened to admit Data. He was dressed similarly to her. There was less fabric on the whole, and the outfit was a straight blue with white stitching, but the vest flared out into layers around his waist, similarly sleeveless to show off his arms. His eyes had been outlined in black, and his left cheek bore the same circuitry doodle that Tasha had drawn on her right. She spared a thought to wonder who had done his makeup – probably, he’d done it himself. It looked good. Unusual, for Data, but somehow it still managed to look more natural on him than it did on her.

“Commander Riker is waiting for us in the transporter room,” he informed her. Tasha gave a perfunctory nod, smoothing down her dress and following him out. No one so much as glanced their way in the corridors, but Tasha still felt like eyes were watching her, staring at them as they made their way to meet the commander.

Riker was dressed nearly identical to Data, although his outfit was in red with black embroidery, and his right cheek matched Tasha’s left one, with the Starfleet insignia. He handed her a phaser, which Tasha tucked under her skirts with a wince. The outfit had been designed with an inside pocket to conceal a phaser, a practical precaution on a mission like this, but she was still going to be swimming through fabric to retrieve it. Those precious seconds could be the difference between life or death.

“Ready?” Riker asked. Data and Tasha both nodded. Tasha took her place between the two men on the transporter pad, and she tensed as she felt their hands hook into her back pockets, Riker on her left and Data on the right. Riker shot Tasha an apologetic look as he signaled the transporter chief to energize, and they dissolved down to the planet below.

Katravarius, home of the Yollor, was actually a gorgeous planet. Tasha didn’t know much about architecture, but she could appreciate the beauty of the arching columns, much of the structures built directly into the cliffside, overlooking the sparkling purple ocean. The Katravarius system had two suns, and the larger of the two was just making its way towards the horizon, the other several hours behind it. They’d beamed down into what looked like an extensive courtyard, the grass lush beneath their feet – sandals, Tasha hated sandals, they made her feet feel too exposed – and a series of fountains connected by aqueducts surrounding them in the four corners, all leading to the garden in the center, which was bursting with blue and lavender flowers, climbing a trellis towards the sky. It was serene and beautiful and Tasha wished she could hate it more, but she didn’t. Even with Data and Riker still holding onto her, even with the knowledge that she was going to have to put up with a series of cultural expectations that she didn’t agree with, Tasha felt herself relaxing at the scene. Not entirely. She was a Starfleet security officer, after all. But enough.

A delegation was already walking out to meet them. The Yollor were humanoid, the key differences in their appearance being a curved ridge behind the ears and a pair of matching ones down the front and back of the neck. Katravarius was headed by a triad (what else was new) of two men, called the Egoi, and their female partner, the Ih’ot. It was close to the Federation concepts of monarchy, arranged betrothals between individuals trained from birth for the task of leadership. They had a council behind them, but the real power lay in these three. They were flanked by a few members of what was presumably their staff, and they stopped when they were a few feet away from Tasha.

She’d read the briefing packet thoroughly. There was a reason the women led; it was a sign of goodwill and openness, representing trust and peace over domination. Tasha made the appropriate gesture, an outstretching of the hands, palms up and crossed, so the thumbs overlapped. “Greetings, Ih’ot Viodra,” Tasha said, lowering her gaze respectfully. “May harmony bless our joined paths.”

It was a shaky translation of the language, according to the report, but the universal translator must have gotten it close enough, because Viodra smiled, and returned the gesture. “We welcome the Federation to our humble planet. May we part more enlightened than we joined.”

Tasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d never stood much on ceremony. She kept her smile on. “My First, Commander Riker, and my Second, Lieutenant Commander Data.”

Viodra indicated the man on her left, who she shared a cheek marking in the shape of overlapping diamonds with. “My First, Egoi Darkim.” She indicated the other, who had a trio of stacked rings. “My Second, Egoi Zagril.”

First and Second meant very little, Tasha had learned. Another struggle with translation – they were ranked equally, the titles intended to parallel with the way the Yollor referred to their twin suns. She fell silent; the women’s part was over. Her job now was to watch while the men talked.

The watching she could do. It was the rest that she wasn’t looking forward to.

Riker had a winning smile. “We’re honored to be welcomed to your planet. The Federation hopes this to be the first of many successful talks between our peoples.” He was charming, Tasha had to admit. Riker was a skilled diplomat, a ‘people person’ in every conceivable way. Data remained silent, and Tasha glanced towards him, watching his yellow eyes scan the other delegation, expression open and curious.

“We hope for the same,” Darkim said. He nodded towards the structure around them. “Why don’t we step inside? I’m sure we’ll all be more comfortable there.”

They followed into what looked like a throne room, with a set of two chairs on either end, and cushions between them. Tasha bristled, but Riker set a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Tasha obediently knelt, her jaw tight. He removed his hand, and Tasha clenched hers in her lap, hidden in the folds of her dress. Her thumb brushed against the phaser. She shifted.

She realized too late that the Yollor had picked up on her restlessness, frowning in her direction. Tasha froze, and a hand touched the back of her neck. She looked up, and met a question in Data’s eyes. She blinked once, slowly, and forced herself to settle, head bowing slightly into the weight of his touch. His fingers squeezed, just lightly, fluttering against her neck. It should have made her tense further, rather than relax, but it was Data, and something about that made every bone in Tasha’s body go limp. Her eyes got heavy, and through half lids she watched Darkim do the same to Viodra, his thumb stroking the ridge under the shell of her ear while Zagril carded his fingers through her hair. Every so often, Tasha felt Riker’s hand brush her shoulder, but he never lingered. Tasha listened to him speak, occasionally supported by Data, tracking the points of interest in the diplomatic talks with a sharp ear. It was clear that Viodra was doing the same, which was interesting. Data had been right; she was clearly not just there for simpering and being petted.

Tasha was surprised when Zagril called for a break, and watched him lift Viodra to her feet, setting her in his lap and massaging gently at her knees and thighs. Darkim bent his head close to them, and Tasha watched Viodra whisper to them, her eyes occasionally glancing over to the Federation party, not cruel but definitely calculating. A politician’s expression.

Data’s hand, still on the back of her neck, squeezed again, and Tasha blinked, looking up. At a gesture from him, Tasha allowed herself to be lifted – effortlessly by Data’s strength – and deposited on his thigh. Tasha groaned. She hadn’t realized how stiff her knees had been getting until the blood returned to them.

“How are we doing?” she asked Riker quietly. “It sounds like things are going pretty well.”

He smiled, turning in towards her and Data. “You’re right. If the rest of the talks go like this, the Federation will be very pleased.”

Data put a careful hand on Tasha’s thigh, and she covered it without thinking, encouraging him to massage the muscle. His voice pitched low beside her ear, just loud enough that Riker would be able to hear too. “The Ih’ot has some concerns about the Federation’s willingness to compensate them fairly in trade. Apparently, they have been visited by others, notably the Ferengi, who have made them similar offers.”

“That’s what she’s saying to them?” Tasha asked.

Data nodded. “The Egoi will undoubtedly bring it up when we resume talks. They will attempt to bargain a better deal.”

“You make it sound like she’s the mastermind,” Tasha teased.

Data blinked, clearly surprised. “The reports were clear about the Ih’ot’s role in society. In general, in Yollor society, the women are expected to be the intellectual ones.”

A blush colored Tasha’s cheeks. So maybe she hadn’t studied the packet quiet as thoroughly as she’d thought. It had been kind of long, and it wasn’t like she’d skimped on the reading. They all turned as Darkim cleared his throat. He smiled at them. “I believe that is enough for now. Come. Let us show you the splendors that Katravarius has to offer.”

Riker inclined his head respectfully, standing up again and offering his hand out to Tasha. She took it, getting to her feet, and looked back at Data. He was watching her, and Tasha smiled without really knowing why. Regardless, it seemed to put him at ease, and he rose with them, his fingers trailed briefly along Tasha’s arm before tucking back into her pocket again.

The tours took them through gardens, into caves along the cliffside where the way was lit by glowing crystals, and through some of the more impressive buildings in the city. Zagril pointed out a spire in the distance, where the council chambers were held. “We’ll be meeting there tomorrow,” he told them. “The council is eager to meet with you.”

“We’re eager to meet them,” Riker said.

“The geophysical structure of the cliffs is fascinating,” Data said, and Tasha suppressed another smile. It was easy to forget, in his yellow operations uniform, that he was the chief science officer as well. He did look beautiful in blue, and Tasha forcibly shoved that thought away, listening as Darkim engaged with Data’s questions, watching the way Data’s eyes seemed to light up with each answer.

Darkim extended a hand. “If you would like, I can show you some of the beautiful natural rock formations we just uncovered on an excavation survey. It’s quite deep in the cave systems, but it is glorious to witness.”

“I would appreciate that.” Data glanced at Riker, who gave a short nod of permission. He released Tasha, the sudden absence of weight throwing her off balance far more than it should have. She rocked uncertainly on her heels, feeling suddenly strangely untethered.

Darkim removed his hand from Viodra’s pocket in favor of cupping her face, pulling her into a kiss before resting their foreheads together, murmuring something that Tasha couldn’t hear, but which softened Data’s expression a little. He glanced towards her, and she gave a minute nod. It was easy to pretend it was for the mission, Zagril watching them with a modicum of confusion – or was that suspicion? – at the lack of obvious affection between them. She could feel Riker’s eyes on her as well as she tilted her chin up, rubbing her nose against Data’s. His breath puffed against her lips, and she fought the endearment she felt at the unnecessary function. “Have fun,” she murmured.

“I will endeavor to do so.”

She smiled, then steeled herself, and quickly pecked Data’s lips. He blinked, a tiny smile quirking his mouth before the expression disappeared. He looked uncertain. Tasha stepped back, giving his wrist a squeeze. She nodded towards Darkim, and Data understood. He followed the Yollor back along the path.

Zagril gestured towards the road ahead. “Come. Shall we continue the tour?”

“Please.” Riker smiled, inclining his head and following the Egoi and Ih’ot. To Tasha, he murmured. “What was that?”

There was curiosity in his voice, but also a touch of amusement. Tasha resisted the urge to elbow him. It wouldn’t be very ‘compassionate’ of her. “It was for the mission,” Tasha mumbled. “We’re supposed to be together, aren’t we?”

Riker gave a hum of acknowledgement, beaming in Zagril’s direction as the Yollor indicated another piece of impressive architecture. Tasha looked away, and found Viodra’s eyes on her, watching. She swallowed hard, and stared at the ground.

***

The rooms that been arranged to accommodate them were less ‘rooms,’ plural, and more one big room, with dividers to semi-partition off certain areas. Through them, Tasha could see the bathing area, with one of the biggest bathtubs Tasha had ever seen, and – naturally – a sleeping area with one truly massive bed in the center. The whole place was furnished mainly in white and blue and gray, the centerpiece an expansive living area comprised mainly of a series of overlapping cushions arranged around a low table, the corners dotted with fern-like plants in stone pots. A window overlooked the ocean, the outcroppings of the cliff face just visible on either side of the glass. On the whole, there wasn’t much privacy, and Tasha’s stomach knotted a little at the prospect.

She waited politely for their hosts to bid them goodbye, promising them that the expected elaborate feast in their honor would take place in a few hours. The door closed, and Riker’s hand dropped from her pocket while Tasha got to work, following protocol to scan the room for listening or viewing devices. “All clear,” she told Riker, who nodded and continued his own perusal of the room, running his hand over the marbled edge of the bathtub and brushing over the leaves of a fern. Tasha took the opportunity to flop down in the mess of cushions, kicking her sandals off and tugging at the fabric around her neck.

“Please tell me we get to change for dinner,” she said. “I don’t know how much longer I can last in this getup.”

Riker laughed. “I get the feeling these people appreciate luxury. I doubt they’d be offended if we wore something else to a banquet in our honor. I’ll call the _Enterprise,_ see if they can’t send something else down.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Riker finished his wandering, folding into a seat on the cushions beside her. “I know you weren’t looking forward to this mission, but I want you to know that you’re performing extremely well.”

Tasha swallowed. “Thank you, sir.”

Riker hesitated. “Tasha…I know you have reasons to be concerned about this kind of mission. Believe me when I say, not just as your commanding officer but as your friend, that I don’t want you to do anything that you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I understand.”

“That includes displays of physical affection.” Riker rapped his knuckled lightly against his knee. “It may be standard in Yollor culture, but there are couples who are less demonstrative in public. We could tell them that’s the case for us.”

Tasha thought about her brief kiss with Data again, how his lips had parted in surprise. How they’d been warm against hers, even for that split second. Slowly, she said, “It would be better for the mission if we act the part of a romantic relationship. Affection included.”

A strange look of understanding crossed Riker’s face – strange, in that Tasha herself wasn’t sure she understood anything. He nodded. “That is true. I’m sure Data would agree.”

Tasha squashed the flutter in her stomach, and nodded with him. “Our success is vital to the Federation. We don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

There was a little crinkle around Riker’s eyes that Tasha didn’t want to think about. He sat back. “I know it’s none of my business, but you and Data are close, aren’t you?”

Heat rushed to Tasha’s cheeks. She fixed her gaze squarely on the floor. “We’re friends.”

“I was at Data’s court case, Tasha. I saw the look on his face when he talked about you.”

Tasha’s stomach squirmed. “He’s my commanding officer, sir. It wouldn’t…it wouldn’t be proper.”

“You’re both senior officers. Fraternization policies don’t apply.”

“It’s not…” Tasha groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “We’re not like that. We’re just friends.”

“But-“

Tasha knew he was thinking about the word ‘intimate.’ She grit her teeth and shook her head. “Whatever…whatever happened between us, it was a one-time thing. We didn’t have control.”

“I just think-“

“And _I_ just think,” Tasha interrupted, “that you were right. It’s really none of your business. Commander.”

It can out a little harsher than she’d intended, and Tasha braced for an equally sharp retort about command structure. It didn’t come. Riker shut his mouth and nodded. “You’re right. I apologize.”

Tasha withheld a sigh. “I promise, it won’t affect the mission.”

“That was never a concern.” Riker stood. “I’m going to call the _Enterprise_ and check in.”

Tasha left him to it, watching as he pulled out his commbadge, wandering in the direction of the ‘bedroom’ and disappearing behind the screen. She remained in the living space a little while longer, and then glanced towards the bathroom. They had nowhere to be for hours, and Tasha did have to admit, the tub looked tempting.

It was absolutely worth it. Tasha had felt a little self-conscious when she slipped off the dress, but it wasn’t like Riker could see her. The edge of the bathtub, a gorgeous grey and black marbled color, extended out into a ledge all around it, and a jar of bath crystals had been placed on it. They smelled amazing, and to Tasha’s delight produced a thick coating of bubbles when they hit the water. She stepped into the tub when it was full, closing her eyes and giving herself permission to lounge. After all, she’d done her bit for now. And it was rare that Tasha let herself indulge in something like this. Their hosts were offering. It would be rude to refuse.

She was low in the water when a tap on her shoulder startled her. She resurfaced with a yelp, wrapping an arm over her chest – unneeded, as the water level was high enough to keep everything below her shoulders covered by the bubbles. She tapped at her ears, getting the water out of them, and stared at Data, who was sitting at the edge of the tub. He had changed out of the previous outfit, still in blue and sleeveless but now with more of a train, the tunic trailing down to his knees before flaring out in waves, the lapels a stark white against the dark fabric. It was belted with an elaborate sash that shimmered in the light, and a pair of dark leather cuffs decorated his wrists. Tasha wasn’t sure where to look, and so kept her eyes on the water, fighting off an inappropriate blush. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she mumbled.

“I returned twenty-one minutes ago,” Data informed her. “Commander Riker says you have been in here awhile.”

Tasha examined her hands, the skin well and truly pruned. “I think I fell asleep. The water’s amazing.”

“I wanted to inform you that we are expected for dinner in an hour. I apologize for the intrusion.”

“It’s fine.” Tasha didn’t know where the words had come from. Her heart was pounding. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“My pleasure.” Data nodded, standing up and turning to go.

“Wait.” Tasha bit her lip as Data looked back at her. She smiled faintly, hardly breathing, shocked by her own daring. It was stupid; Data was a fellow officer, and it wasn’t like he could _see_ anything (wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all already, something in Tasha whispered, sending a shiver through her body). She cleared her throat. “The ship sent us down new clothes?”

Data looked down at himself, then smoothed the front of the tunic down with one hand. “That is correct.”

“You look good. I don’t think I said that before.”

Data blinked, and a small smile quirked his lips. “Thank you.” It faded, and he looked down. “I am not certain you will be pleased with your attire.”

Tasha wanted to be irritated, but she merely rolled her eyes. “I kind of expected that.” She crossed her arms, leaning them against the rim of the tub. “Could you bring it to me?”

“Of course.” Data left, and returned a moment later with a bundle of fabric. On top of it was a towel. He set the whole pile on the edge of the tub and retreated. Tasha watched him go, then sighed, mentally berating herself for the momentary hope that he’d linger with her. Data wasn’t really her partner. He was her friend, sure, but that wasn’t a reason to stand around next to her while she was in the bath. Even if she kind of wanted him to. She banished the thought of Data’s hand on her neck from earlier, trailing up to wash her hair, his fingers firm but gentle. Her eyes still closed, Tasha found the drain for the tub, and let the water swirl away.

The thing was, objectively Tasha knew that her new outfit wasn’t much better than the first. But maybe it was the relaxing bath, or maybe the way she felt almost like she was slipping into character the longer they were here, into a quieter, softer Tasha Yar – still attentive, still an officer, but allowed to rest easy in her crewmates’ hands. Either way, the outfit didn’t bother her so much this time as she slipped it on. It was less colorful, a straight blue and red to match Riker and Data, the colors bleeding together in swirls like oil in water. It had no straps, instead cupping her breasts, dipping slightly between them in a way that made Tasha’s throat dry, connected thinly to partial sleeves that were mostly patterned lace, falling to her elbows but leaving her forearms bare. The skirt trailed low in the back, but it was high in the front, exposing the length of her legs up to her knees, with patterned sandals with straps that crisscrossed all the way up her calves. A pair of belts wrapped around her hips in an x pattern, one pure red edged with black, the other solid blue edged with white.

A set of jewelry went with it, and Tasha’s stomach flipped, cradling these in her palms as she stepped out of the bathroom into the living space. Data and Riker were standing by the table, speaking softly, but at her footsteps they both turned to look. Riker, whose outfit again matched Data’s but for the color, raised his eyebrows and whistled lowly, but Tasha found she wasn’t looking at him. She watched Data blink, his lips parting in surprise, as if he had sucked in a breath. She spread her hands a little, giving a small, un-Tasha twirl. “What do you think?”

“You look great,” Riker told her. His smile was warm. Tasha’s eyes flicked back to Data. He was still staring. Riker’s grin widened as he followed her line of sight. He clapped Data on the back. “I think you’ve rendered Mr. Data speechless.”

Data shook himself, eyes wide as he looked back and forth between the two. Tasha watched him swallow, marveling at the humanness of the gesture. “Your outfit is aesthetically appealing,” he told her. He looked uncertain, but after a hesitation added, “It compliments your figure well.”

“Thanks.” Tasha held up the jewelry. “Think you could help me with this?”

Data glanced at Riker, who made an ‘all yours’ gesture. He stepped forward, taking the earrings from Tasha. “They are magnetic,” he told her. “It is traditional for Yollor women to wear earrings representing a variety of symbols.” He laid them out in his hand to show her, arranging the series of golden crescents – two large and one smaller – so they were all facing the same way. “This particular design represents Katravarius’s two suns and one moon.” He directed Tasha to turn her head slightly, fastening them to her ears. Tasha handed him the last piece, and he faltered, looking from it to her. It was leather, matching the cuffs that he and Riker wore, the material imprinted with patterns that resembled crashing waves. But it wasn’t for her wrists.

Data hesitated. His grip tightened a little on the collar. “If you would prefer to forgo-“

“It’s fine, Data,” Tasha murmured. She tipped her head back, exposing her neck. Her stomach churned, but it wasn’t really nausea. Tasha wondered if there was something in the air that was making her act like this. If they’d been aboard the _Enterprise_ , she was sure she would have smacked the collar from Data’s hands. But here, with the ocean rolling beyond their window, the second sun setting and casting a hazy glow over everything, Tasha felt something calm in her that she couldn’t identity. “It doesn’t mean the same thing here, right?” she said. “The briefing said collars weren’t…it’s not really an ownership thing.”

“That is accurate.”

Tasha had scoffed at that part of the report when she’d read it – as far as she was concerned, collars meant ownership, meant submission – but she was starting to wonder. The Yollor didn’t wear collars all the time, but they were common fashion accessories for ceremonial functions. They considered them, like the cuffs, a symbol of stability. It meant you were no longer searching for something. She lifted one hand, touching it to her throat. Data tracked the motion. His hands were hesitant, but they reached out, and Tasha allowed him to buckle the collar around her neck, turning it so the metal tab sat at the front, cold against the hollow of her throat.

Riker coughed quietly, and it was like a spell was broken. His gaze shifted between them, and Tasha blushed a little, falling automatically into her security stance, hands folded behind her back. Data straightened too, focusing on their commander. He didn’t comment on the moment, instead nodding towards Tasha. “We should probably fix your cheeks. The ink is starting to smudge off.”

Tasha touched it, and her fingers came away black. She hadn’t thought to check it after the bath. She nodded. “Give me a minute.”

“Allow me.” Data took the pencil from her, and Tasha stilled as he cupped her chin, correcting the marks with a few short strokes, switching hands as he switched cheeks. He pulled away, studying his work, and then gave a short nod. “I believe that will suffice.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

***

If there was one thing Tasha had been looking forward to, it was the food. During her career at Starfleet, she’d heard more than one officer complain – off duty, of course – about the hazard of diplomatic missions where food was involved. Everything was tested for allergens, of course, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant to eat every local delicacy you were expected to sample out of politeness. Tasha had never really understood that mentality. While she did avoid the alcohol (thankfully, few cultures considered this rude of her, so long as she drank _something_ at their table) Tasha had grown up starving. While she had her favorites now, she’d never really grown away from the mentality of ‘eat what’s in front of you because you never know when you’ll have something again,’ and it was much harder to find a food that would disgust someone who had, more than once, resorted to eating bugs and raw meat when resources were particularly scarce, rather than someone who had been raised on the convenience of the replicator. And on the off chance that Tasha really didn’t like it, she was always able to gulp it down without a wince. Food was food.

The Yollorian local delicacies had sounded extremely appealing when Tasha had read about them. It was a lot of seafood, something she’d never had growing up but had developed a taste for. So yes, the food itself was something she’d been looking forward to. The rest…well, she’d planned on crossing that bridge when she came to it.

She’d come to it. Yollorian dinner tables were unusual. For one thing, as in the throne room, the chairs were arranged with a cushion between them. But, in deference to that, the tables were not only clear glass, but also warped, so that while much of the table was level, it dipped down in places, perfectly situated to correspond with the cushions. A circular tray made up of blue and green broken tiles sat at the center on a turntable, the food placed there accessible to every member of the party.

Their hosts were standing when the officers entered, Tasha in the front as expected. She could feel her phaser at her back, but it was more distant than before. They hadn’t made a single aggressive move so far, and Tasha thought it unlikely that they would at this juncture. The triad sat, and Tasha knelt without prompting, sliding to her knees as Data and Riker took their chairs on either side of her. It was a long table, at the center of a frankly enormous banquet hall, and off to the side there was a space for dancing and a band setting up instruments that Tasha didn’t recognize. There were other guests, some in triads and others clearly attended on their own, people the Egoi introduced as council members and other distinguished leaders of the community. Tasha tracked the names, but felt oddly unfocused. She drummed her fingers on her thighs until Data’s hand slid out, grasping her carefully by the back of her neck. Her fingers stilled. That feeling came again, not quite like sleep but still sort of dreamy. She settled, and felt Data trace over the line of her collar. It was nice, she realized distantly. She should have shot that thought down at once – Tasha Yar was _not_ submissive, was not the kind of woman who let a man control her like this – but instead she allowed it to linger, brushing away the indignation. Data wasn’t controlling her. He was just touching her, was just following mission parameters. He was helping her stay still, so their cover wouldn’t be blown. She could lean on him, and he would support her.

She found it happen literally, blinking as she realized she’d pressed herself against Data’s leg without consciously thinking about it, her cheek against his thigh. His fingers had slipped into her hair, stroking it rhythmically. She thought Riker might still be reaching out, professional shoulder-touches, but she wasn’t aware of them. She forced herself to straighten, tensing when Data’s hand stilled, and then relaxing when the petting resumed. It was nice, in a strange sort of way.

Tasha shook herself internally. This was for show. It was pretend.

She watched as people began serving themselves, and her stomach clenched into knots. Data exchanged a glance with Riker over her head, a short conversation that she couldn’t hear, and then Data began picking through the offerings methodically while Riker loaded his plate with the things nearest him. Tasha had seen Riker eat gagh, still alive and squirming. The raw tentacled thing wouldn’t phase him.

Data’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up at him. “Hmm?”

“I extrapolated what you might like, based on your known food preferences. I was wondering if I misinterpreted anything.”

Tasha blinked. She stretched up a little, examining the plate he’d put together. She was astonished how accurate it was. Everything on it was something she would have chosen to try, arranged into a relatively well-balanced meal. It was all finger food, for obvious reasons. She steeled herself. “It’s good,” she managed. “That’s fine.”

Data nodded. Tasha tried not to look at the other women in the room, kneeling between their men, eating out of their hands. It would have been too much. She spared a look for Riker, but when he caught her gaze he just squeezed her shoulder briefly, giving her a pointed look towards Data before he returned to eating. Data picked up something that looked a bit like a mushroom, a scallop-type thing garnished with breadcrumbs sitting in the hollowed-out center. He held it out to her, and Tasha let out a soft breath, folding her hands behind her back and leaning forward to take it from him. Her teeth scraped over the pads of his fingers, and she pulled back swiftly, chewing and swallowing without really tasting.

“Another?” Data asked softly, and she nodded.

“Are you going to eat?” she asked after she swallowed again. It was good, she noted distantly, salty and earthy in equal proportions. She wondered if any of it was from Data’s fingers. He didn’t sweat. What did his skin taste like? She’d tasted it once, but that memory was over a year old and blocked out. Tasha couldn’t have said.

Data shook his head. “There is no need. They know I do not require sustenance. It is adequate that I partake in the rituals of the meal. I will most likely drink something when they serve it.”

Tasha hummed, distracted by the task of minimizing contact with Data’s hand. Tension radiated through her body, her shoulders tight.

Data paused. He turned slightly towards her. “Are you alright? Is this too much?”

“Hmm?”

“You are in distress.”

The problem was, she wasn’t. The only distressing thing for Tasha was how _easy_ this was, kneeling by Data’s side and eating out of his hand. Like she was a kept woman, like they’d tried to make her on Turkana. What did that say about her? She was years and lightyears away from that, and still she gravitated back. Just like her mother.

She shuddered. “It’s…it’s not you. You’re fine.”

“What can I do?”

Tasha wanted to ask for her plate. She could feed herself. But that was wrong. On Katravarius the women didn’t eat from their own plates. And…she didn’t want to.

Tasha forced herself to relax, letting the tension out of her body with a breath. “Just…let me lean against you, okay?”

“Of course.”

She pressed herself to Data’s side again, and this time she didn’t fight to avoid his touch, taking food from his fingers without thinking too hard, occasionally licking them clean. Data said nothing, but Tasha could feel him watching her, even as he made conversation with Riker and their hosts. It made her feel safe. He was looking out for her.

She startled a little when his hand didn’t appear again, tilting her head up in time to watch him take two glasses from a tray being offered. He took a sip from one, nodded, and then lowered it to her level. “It is not alcoholic.”

“Really?”

“My taste receptors would register if it was.”

Tasha leaned forward, allow Data to tip the glass just enough for her to taste. It was sweet, like a wine, but Tasha trusted Data. If he said it wasn’t alcohol, it wasn’t, and she closed her eyes, taking little sips at Data’s guidance until he removed the glass and resumed feeding her, alternating between the two until plate and glass were empty and Tasha was comfortably full. Data’s leg was warm against her cheek, and his hand returned to her hair. She could get used to this, Tasha thought.

It was a sobering thought, chasing through her like ice. She couldn’t get used to this. They would complete their mission, and whatever stupid spell Tasha was under would break. She’d go back to being friends with Data, and that would be it.

Vaguely, she was aware of music starting up in the background, people leaving the table to step out onto the dance floor. A throat cleared delicately behind her, and she swiveled a little, blinking in surprise at Ih’ot Viodra, who stood there. The Ih’ot made a pointed look at both Data and Riker before returning her gaze to Tasha with a smile. “You should send your men to dance. Our floor would be graced with such beauty.”

Tasha blushed. She glanced up at Data and Riker, who both nodded. Riker offered his hand out to Data with a grin, and Data accepted it with one last look over his shoulder as the commander pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Viodra took a seat next to her, not kneeling but with crossed legs on the floor. Tasha mirrored the position, curling her hands around her ankles. “You honor me with your presence, Ih’ot,” Tasha murmured.

Viodra raised her hands. “You may dispense with the formalities. This is a celebration, and we are just women here.”

“Right.”

Viodra cocked her head. Her eyes were exceedingly green. She was pretty, Tasha thought. Her smile was knowing. “Your marriage is political, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“There is no shame in it,” Viodra told her. She gestured to the dance floor, where Darkim and Zagril were dancing together. “My marriage was political. I care for them a great deal, and they are good men. Intelligent, as far as men go, and kind. I suspect you feel similarly for your First.”

“Riker?” Tasha asked, and too late wondered if she should be calling him Will. She nodded, and hoped she wasn’t contradicting any story they’d come up with. “Our arrangement was for political purposes.” That was the truth, in a very literal sense. “I like and respect him, but I don’t really love him.”

Viodra nodded. “Your second, of course, is a different matter. I can see-“

“Wait, what?” Tasha slammed her mouth shut, biting down on her tongue. “I apologize, your excellence, I didn’t mean-“

Viodra shook her head, still smiling. “It is quite alright. He was political as well, then?”

“They…thought we would be a good match.” For the mission, she chanted in her head. Just for this mission.

“Have you been together long?”

Tasha shook her head. “It’s a recent development.” Try less than forty-eight hours.

“When did you know you loved him?”

Tasha choked. She tugged at her collar, suddenly aware of how tight it was. She chuckled nervously. “What do you mean?”

Viodra’s smile was wry. “I see the way you look at him. I am not blind, Lieutenant Yar. I must confess, I am still uncertain at the existence of a mechanical man, but his heart clearly beats for you as well.”

Tasha shut her mouth. “I…”

“He does not know?”

“No.” Tasha hung her head. “It’s…complicated.”

“How so?”

What could she say that was appropriate? That wouldn’t put their mission at risk? Tasha cast about, struggling to find an answer.

Carefully, she said, “Things aren’t…quite the same where I come from.”

“Oh?” Viodra’s expression sharpened, curious.

Tasha nodded. “I wasn’t originally from the Federation. My planet was isolated, apart. Things were…very different. Uncivilized,” she added, and look of understanding (although Tasha highly doubted she truly did) fell over Viodra’s face.

“Your men know?” the Ih’ot asked.

Tasha nodded. “They do. See, it wasn’t…it wasn’t like this there. Women weren’t considered people. Men were…aggressive. Cruel. Just…just before the Federation saved me, some men captured me. They wanted to sell me.”

Viodra goggled. “ _Sell you?_ ”

The shock felt almost comical. Tasha knew that probably was a more a problem on her part than Viodra’s. How nice it must have been, to come from a life where the idea of being sold into sexual slavery was shocking, and not a very real concern. She nodded, and touched her collar. “See, things like this, and like kneeling…they meant something different. On my home planet, it made you a possession. A toy, subservient, breakable and easily replaced.” She had no idea where the words were coming from. Tasha rarely found herself able to speak about this with people she knew. But it was hard not to be relaxed right now, the collar a settled weight at her throat, Data across the room but within her eyeshot, showing Riker the steps of a traditional Yollorian dance. Tasha felt open, exposed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It should have been worrying, but Tasha knew her training could kick in at a moment’s notice if necessary. In the meantime, Viodra was easy to open up to. Clearly intelligent, but approachable. Tasha felt bad for judging her harshly.

“It is different with civilized worlds,” Viodra said. She seemed to be getting a handle on herself, back on familiar ground.

“Exactly.” Tasha let herself defer to the Ih’ot. No sense in telling her that Tasha hadn’t thought much more highly of the Yollor’s practices even just this morning.

Viodra smiled. “You do not collar one who is replaceable. It is an honor, reserved for only those you intend to share in harmony with. We do not kneel beside our men because they own us. It is because we trust in them to keep us safe, as they trust in us to guide them.”

It sounded so nice when she said it like that. Tasha swallowed hard. “They’re good men,” she repeated. “They know I have trouble, but they don’t make me feel lesser because of it. They care about my boundaries.” Technically, she meant Riker too, but all she could think about was Data. “I just…I think, sometimes, about why I have those boundaries up in the first place. And maybe…”

“You believe that you could lower them. For the right man. A man who was worthy of it. Who had earned your trust.” Viodra nodded. “I understand.” She placed a hand over Tasha’s, a surprisingly intimate gesture. Tasha stared down at it, but didn’t pull away. “There is no shame in loving one you were bonding with,” Viodra told her. “If you trust him, there is no fear in letting him in.”

Tasha’s heart gave a painful throb. She watched Riker laugh, twirling Data, their tails spinning out around them. “What if he doesn’t want me like that?” she asked softly. It wasn’t real, she repeated. This was for the mission. It wasn’t real.

“He loves you,” Viodra said. There was total confidence in her voice, the voice of a leader who knew her word was law. “He honors you. He will want you. He already does.”

“How can you be sure?”

Viodra raised her eyebrows, her eyes twinkling as she smiled. “I have watched you. You are in harmony.”

It wasn’t really an answer, but it settled something in Tasha’s chest. Viodra stood, offering Tasha a gesture of farewell, which Tasha mirrored, before the Ih’ot was walking away, striding sensually across the floor before inserting herself between her partners, her skirts swishing around her legs. Tasha watched Darkim fit a finger under Viodra’s collar, which was golden and studded with jewels, holding her like she was precious. Tasha curled her hands in her lap, fisting the fabric tightly against the aching in her stomach. Data’s glass was still on the table, half-full, and she dragged it down to the floor with her, taking little sips, clutching the flute in tight hands.

***

The dancing went on long into the night. Tasha was coaxed into it eventually, at Riker’s beckoning. She didn’t stray far from his side, or Data’s, keeping her eyes on their feet as she followed their steps. It was even fun, after a fashion, and it made her laugh whenever Riker murmured in her ear a comment about one of the other guests, asking what the likelihood was that this one’s hair was real, or whether that one was hoping to go home with someone else for a change. Data mostly stayed silent, occasionally breaking in to compliment Tasha’s gracefulness or her mastery of the steps – neither particularly deserved compliments, in Tasha’s opinion, but they sent waves of warmth through her, making her blush and nearly always miss the next step in the dance.

It was late by the time they made it back to their quarters, exhausted and with the knowledge that in the morning they would be meeting with the council to discuss opening official trade negotiations between Katravarius and the Federation. Tasha’s feet hurt, but she did her duty, sweeping the room again for surveillance devices, checking to see if anything had been tampered with. There was nothing.

Riker was already stripping his tunic off, leaving just the undershirt beneath. “I’ll contact the _Enterprise_ for an update. Then we’d better get some sleep.” There were sleep clothes left out – Tasha recognized hers from the _Enterprise_ , which was a relief – and Riker snagged his on the way to the bedroom, his commbadge chirping as he activated it. Tasha grabbed a towel, sitting down hard on the edge of the bathroom as she wiped ink from her cheeks.

Data followed her, handing Tasha her pajamas when she set the towel down. “Wake me up if anything happens, alright?” Tasha instructed. It was standard procedure for the _Enterprise_ crew when Data went on the away mission. He didn’t need sleep, so he kept watch. She’d asked him about it before, even argued with him once, but Data insisted he didn’t mind. And it meant his crewmates would be better rested for whatever their next task would be.

Data nodded his affirmative. “I will be out here if you require anything.”

Tasha unclipped her earrings. “Actually…” she hesitated. “Help me with this?” She touched two fingers to the collar.

Something flashed through Data’s eyes, too fast for her to identify. But he nodded, stepped forward as Tasha tilted her head back, allowing him to unhook it. “Thanks,” she murmured. She cleared her throat. “It’s hard to get at the fasteners myself.”

“Of course.” Data took two steps back, still holding the collar, and then left the room, disappearing back to the other side of the partition. Tasha swallowed hard. Maybe Viodra had been right. Data was sweet, and he was kind. It was just possible that he might like her too.

She shook her head to clear that thought. Of course Data was kind to her. Data was kind to everyone. She had to focus on the mission. She let her dress pool around her ankles, replacing it with her pajamas, blue and boxy and ultimately comfortable, hiding her figure in a way the dresses hadn’t. This was how she was comfortable.

She touched two fingers to her throat again. Then she wrapped her hand around it. Even when she increased the pressure, it wasn’t the same. Tasha didn’t know why that thought hurt so much.

She knocked on the partition into the bedroom, waiting for Riker to call out “come!” before entering. He was dressed in pajamas now, and he smiled at her. “I don’t suppose I’ll have to fight you for the bed?”

Tasha snorted, grinning. “Please. It’s big enough for three people. Two Starfleet officers should fit just fine.” Tasha had shared a cramped tent with half her security team before. You could have piled the whole bridge crew on the bed, and she wouldn’t have slept well, but she would have made it work. She crawled in, with Riker taking the opposite side. There were several feet between them, the empty space feeling oddly huge. Riker turned out the light, and Tasha stared out the window, where the moonlight was reflecting off the ocean.

Half an hour later Riker was out, but Tasha still wasn’t asleep. She felt restless, unsettled. She scooped up her pillows, clutching them to her chest as she walked out into the living space. Data looked up from his seat amongst the cushions. “Tasha? Is everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.” She dropped the pillows down beside him, curling up on the floor. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Data stood, dimming the lights, and then took a seat beside her again. Tasha closed her eyes. Data worked late in her quarters sometimes. She’d fallen asleep on her own sofa many times, only to wake up tucked into her own bed. It didn’t surprise her when a weight covered her shoulders as Data spread a blanket over her. She let out a contented sigh as his hand rested there. She wasn’t awake long enough to find out if he removed it or not.

When Tasha woke in the morning, she was a little stiff from her night on the floor. She actually smiled to herself as she stretched, working the kinks out of her neck. There’d been a time where sleeping in a _bed_ had left her uncomfortable in the morning. It was nice to be reminded about the little ways she’d moved on. Data wasn’t beside her; when Tasha looked around she saw him speaking with Riker on the other side of the room, both men already dressed for the council meeting. The color scheme was the same, still with layers although the folds of this tunic were about the chest, rather than the waist, and apparently the Yollor had something against sleeves because these outfits didn’t have them either. Not that she was complaining.

Tasha hauled herself to her feet, half-expecting Riker to comment about her shift in sleeping arrangements. He didn’t, just nodded towards the table. “Our hosts arranged for someone to bring us breakfast.”

Tasha picked up a pastry and bit into it. “How much time do we have?”

“The council meeting is in two hours, forty-seven minutes,” Data informed her.

“So no rush.”

“I thought we could take a walk,” Riker said. He nodded towards the door. “It’s a long way to the council chambers, but it’d give us more of an idea of what the city looks like.”

“You mean, besides what the politicians want us to see,” Tasha said, catching his drift. She stuffed the rest of the pastry in her mouth and found the bundle of clothes that belonged to her. “Let me get changed, and we can go.”

Today’s outfit was more of a waistcoat with a skirt, sheer layers in jewel tones draped over a pair of leggings. There was no jewelry with it, and Tasha found herself rubbing her neck absently as she stepped out again, her face painted and ready to go. Data caught the motion, and Tasha was surprised to see him grimace.

“You okay?” she asked him, strapping her phaser onto her hip.

Data looked away. “I should be asking you that question.”

“Me?”

Data glanced at Riker, who pointedly looked away. “Is there residual discomfort from the collar?”

“What?” Tasha started. “Oh!” She blushed, her gaze dropping to the floor. “No, that’s…it’s fine. I didn’t mind it.”

Data’s brow furrowed. “That is surprising.”

She offered him half a shrug. “It surprised me too. But I had a talk with the Ih’ot yesterday and she…helped clear some things up for me.” A thought crossed Tasha’s mind, and maybe the planet really was affecting her, because she found herself blurting it out without thinking about it. “Collars are traditional for significant cultural events, right?”

“That is accurate.”

Tasha ignored the fact that Riker was clearly trying to hide a grin. She didn’t need him to expose her pathetically obvious plea. “Does this meeting count?” she asked.

Data hesitated. “I…suppose it could. However-“

“Maybe I should wear it, just to be safe.”

“That hardly seems necessary.”

“It’s for the mission, right?” Tasha reasoned. Something was bubbling up in her chest, something hopeful and strangely light. “We don’t want to let the captain down.”

Data looked to Riker again, who shrugged, still grinning. “Fine by me.” Data gave a short nod, and then disappeared momentarily, returning with not only the collar, but the matching cuffs.

“It is traditional,” he said by way of explanation, and blinked when Tasha took his wrists, fixing the leather cuffs on for him. By the time Data had the collar in hand, Tasha was already tilting her chin up, her heart thrumming at the feel of leather against her throat. Data tightened it a little, and then let it sit, a solid weight that had Tasha settling, grounded.

Riker gave her a pointed look, and Tasha attempted to shoot him a scathing one back, a reminder of ‘none of your business,’ but she was pretty sure it didn’t have the intended effect, because his smile didn’t falter as he finished fixing on his own cuffs. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The city was beautiful in the morning, the water sparkling below the cliffs and the sky a haze of orange and purple. Tasha was almost disappointed when Data and Riker broke away from her the moment they left the grounds of their hosts’ estate, walking side by side with her instead. She’d gotten used to the feeling of being tethered.

But it was the right call. They saw plenty of people, walking pets or setting up shop, getting ready for work. Many had painted cheeks in a variety of designs, and a few did walk in triads, but Tasha got the feeling, based on the expressions and relative ages, that those relationships were newer, still in the ‘honeymoon phase.’ Most people, even those who traveled with their partners, did so more casually. The gender roles still seemed relatively in place – the women quieter, more observant, while the men greeted neighbors and spoke amongst themselves – but there was far more diversity here than they had been led to believe. Tasha was surprised to see a trio of women shopping at a fishmonger’s stall, the one in the center bent over the fish and chatting animatedly with the shopkeeper while her partners stood back and watched. She nudged Data gently, nodding towards the group, and watched with a smile as his head cocked, the word ‘curious’ half-formed on his lips.

Riker spoke for all of them. “Seems like the Federation observers got their facts wrong.”

“Monarchy states often find the governing leaders the last to change with cultural trends,” Data pointed out. “Perhaps the observers were more concerned with us making a good impression on the Egoi and Ih’ot than they were about accurately reflecting the general population.”

That seemed to be true throughout the city. Tasha recognized the fashions, and collars – either as an accessory or part of the bodice – were common, particularly with women with both cheeks painted, but she couldn’t see any sign that people scorned those not wearing them. The same went for presumably bonded pairs of women. Naturally, two men would be looked at as typical, albeit incomplete without their third, but Tasha saw a number of female couples throughout the city, cheeks matching but without any apparent ill will towards them. It really did seem like a nice society, on the whole.

The spire that marked the council building grew larger as they approached, until Tasha had to crane her neck up just to look at it, shielding her eyes from the suns. The building was more elaborate than others in the neighborhood, surrounded by what looked to be community gardens and, of course, more fountains. “How early are we?” she asked.

Data’s answer was prompt. “Twenty-seven minutes. Head Councilwoman Ceel will meet us outside to escort us to the council room.”

“We should wait here until then.” Riker rocked back on his heels, turning on the spot to observe their surroundings. Tasha had already done her scan – she was a security officer, and she was on duty – but the morning seemed peaceful. Still. She wasn’t ready to jinx the mission just yet.

She took a seat on the edge of a fountain. The sea air ruffled at her hair, slightly tangy with salt. “It’s so different from where I grew up,” Tasha murmured. Data took a seat next to her, silent, and Tasha glanced at him. “I keep expecting everywhere we go to turn out like Turkana. Like I’m just…holding my breath, waiting for the bad underneath the good.”

“It is true that darkness sometimes disguises itself as light,” Data agreed. “But that does not mean all light is hiding the dark.” He wasn’t looking at her, Tasha realized, but out at something in the distance. Tasha traced his eyes, and found them on a triad walking something that looked a bit like a dog with too many legs. One of the men held a young child in his arms.

She nudged him gently. “That’s very poetic, Data.”

He blinked, then looked at her. “Do you really think so?”

“Would I ever lie to you?”

Data opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No,” he said finally. “I do not believe you would.”

Riker took a seat on Tasha’s other side. Tasha felt herself shifting, and straightened, then realized where she was and allowed herself to lean. They wouldn’t be on the planet much longer. She wasn’t sure how long she’d get to pretend. Data didn’t so much as twitch when he felt Tasha’s weight at his side, allowing her to brace herself against him. Tasha felt Riker’s hand tap lightly against hers, and then he withdrew. His expression, when she checked it, was soft, his gaze flicking between her and Data before raising his eyebrows. She shrugged with her free shoulder, safe in the fact that Data wasn’t looking at her, was instead watching the passing families again. Riker wasn’t stupid. He obviously had a clue. Which maybe put him ahead of Tasha. It seemed like maybe everyone was.

Except, of course, for Data.

Tasha vaguely recognized the woman who came out to greet them from the banquet the previous night. She was a tall woman, neither cheek painted but one of the ridges beneath her ear pierced with a trio of decorative rings. Her clothes were about as close to a suit as Yollor fashion seemed to get, and Tasha instinctively felt the urge to sit up straighter. She stood, offering her hands out in the appropriate gesture as Riker and Data stood too. Head Councilwoman Ceel returned it with a polite, political smile, not quite fake but not entirely there. “The council welcomes the Federation,” she told them. “We hope these discussions will be most productive.”

“So do we, Councilwoman,” Tasha replied.

Ceel’s smile gained a layer of realness. “Your collar is lovely,” she said. “Is it new?”

Tasha’s lips parted in surprise, and her hand went to it. She’d almost forgotten, already used to the weight around her neck. She smiled professionally. “It is,” she said. “Thank you for noticing.” She felt Data’s hand hook into her pocket, almost as if on instinct, and it bolstered her. She raised her eyebrows, and even though it was probably Riker’s turn to take over, she spoke anyway, gesturing towards the building. “Shall we?”

Ceel’s pleased expression told her it was the right move. She nodded, almost a bow. “Follow me.”

***

The talks went well. Tasha had never doubted Riker’s skills as a diplomat, but he was good at it. The council seemed equally enchanted with Data – not that Tasha could blame them – and they seemed pleased with her. She was given the option to kneel or sit in the council chambers, and surprised herself by opting to fold into a kneeling position, thrilled when Data’s hand moved automatically to her neck. She was almost disappointed to stand so they could take their leave.

Head Councilwoman Ceel pulled Tasha aside just as Riker was calling the _Enterprise_ to confirm them for beam out. Her voice was low and polite, but knowing when she said, “Your Federation…this was a show for our benefit, yes?”

Tasha’s eyes widened. “I…don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, I obviously won’t contest that you and your Second make a lovely…what’s the word? Couple? But I think things must be a little different where all of you come from, aren’t they?” Ceel’s gaze drifted towards Riker, and then back to Tasha with a meaningful look.

Tasha didn’t bother to correct her about Data. “If it was a show…would that change the council’s stance?”

“Oh, no.” Ceel shook her head. “We do appreciate the effort you were willing to make. I’m sure it can’t have been easy, pretending like that for us. But the council is not so behind the times as the Egoi and Ih’ot. We are finding that our citizens demand we embrace change, and we are eager to agree.”

Tasha considered Viodra’s words the night before, about symbolism and trust. “Your leaders are wise in many ways,” she said, and hoped it didn’t sound too over-the-top. “But I think the Federation will agree with me that our greatest faith in Katravarius is the way it looks to the future.”

Ceel nodded approvingly. “You may tell your Federation there is no need to pretend any longer. We will welcome them regardless.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Tasha said. She extended her hands, palms up, thumbs overlapping. “May our paths cross again.”

“May you find harmony until they do.” With that, Ceel marched back to the rest of the council, and Tasha took the cue to rejoin her shipmates.

Riker gave her a curious look. “What was that about?”

“The Head Councilwoman just wanted to inform us that the Federation need not pretend to be something it’s not anymore,” Tasha said. She glanced at Data, then back to Riker. “I’m ready to go home, sir.”

Riker’s face split into a smile. “Home it is,” he said. He tapped his commbadge. “Three to beam up. Energize.”

Getting back into her uniform felt almost strange. Tasha stared at herself in the mirror a long time when she did so, her cheeks clear and clean, her outfit practical, with no skirts to hide a phaser beneath. They’d actually done it. A completely, one hundred percent successful mission, with absolutely nothing going wrong. All that was left was to write their reports and brief the captain, and then they could move on with their lives.

Tasha fiddled with the uniform’s collar, studying it in the mirror. It felt so much lower after the past forty-eight hours. Her fingers brushed over the two pips, and she glanced back towards the bed, where the clothes she’d worn for the mission were folded up in a pile. Costuming for missions always came with a choice; put it in the recycler, or keep it. Tasha had never felt the need to keep anything from a mission before. But now…

She tucked the dresses into a drawer, out of sight. It might be nice to wear them again. Someday. The earrings she recycled but the collar…Tasha stared at it for several long seconds before she picked it up, placing it on top of a PADD and hugging both to her chest before striding out of her quarters, down the familiar corridors of the ship, on a path she had walked hundreds of times before.

Data’s door slid open the moment she hit the bell, barely given a chance to chime before Data called out, “Come in!” He was at his desk, but he stood when she entered. “Tasha.”

“Hey.” Tasha bit her lip, giving him a nervous smile. She hugged the PADD a little tighter, nodding towards the matching one on his desk. “Working on your report?”

Data nodded. “I believe the captain will be pleased with our results.”

“Do mind if I do mine here?”

It wasn’t an unusual request, and Data gestured for her to take a seat. Tasha started to, and then stood again. “I need to say something.”

Data blinked. “Is this about the mission? If I overstepped in any way-“

“You didn’t overstep.” Tasha took a deep breath. She approached Data’s desk, taking a seat on the corner of it. “I went into the past two days thinking I was going to hate it. I expected it to be awful, degrading, that I’d be treated like a decoration while you and Commander Riker did the work of actual Starfleet officers. But…it wasn’t like that at all.” She swallowed. “Data…our friendship means…so much to me. But I don’t think I’m imagining that there’s something else there, right?”

Data hesitated. He tipped his head in quiet acknowledgement. “I do believe we have a certain level of…I believe the term is chemistry?”

“We do,” Tasha agreed. “Enough that everyone else seems to be picking up on it too.”

“How so?”

Tasha blushed. “Well, for one, I’m pretty sure Riker has a good idea. I think he might have thought we were together already. Most of the Yollor definitely did. Even when they could tell that Riker and I weren’t…really very interested in each other, they all still thought you and I seemed…different.”

“They believed we were in love.”

Tasha let out a soft, nervous laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.” She stared at the ground. “I don’t know. Pretending…I liked it. And I kept thinking how much better it could be if it were real. And part of me didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t know if I was imagining it, or if it would ruin things, but…” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t feel something for you. Something that isn’t friendship. I don’t know if it’s really love, but I think it could be. If I gave it time.”

Data’s expression was full of wonder. “I believe my position is similar.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “It may not be an easy experience. I am still learning about human emotion, and my reactions may not always be favorable for you.”

“That makes two of us,” Tasha joked. She smiled, a little sheepish. “I’m probably not as together as I’d like to be, even now. Some things…some things are going to trip me up. I’m going to think you expect things of me, and I’m going to expect things from you. But even if it’s messy, I’m willing to give it a shot. How about you?”

“This is your formal invitation to initiate a relationship?”

Tasha laughed. “Yes, Data. It’s my formal invitation.”

“Then I accept.”

“Good.” She leaned in, tugging him forward by the front of his uniform until she could kiss him. It wasn’t anything like the other times. The first, during the polywater fiasco, had been all fire and passion. The second, on Katravarius, had been quick and nervous. This was sweet, lingering for several long moments, but chaste. Tasha felt breathless when she broke it, like something had swept in and stolen the air from her lungs.

“Do you still view diplomatic missions unfavorably?” Data asked.

It shocked a laugh out of her, and Tasha rocked back, her shoulders shaking with mirth. Data smiled, clearly pleased. “They still suck,” Tasha told him. “But…not all of them. Some aren’t so bad.”

“I am pleased your response was favorable.”

“ _Very_ favorable.” Tasha bit her lip. She lowered the PADD into her lap, picking up the collar off it. Data’s eyes widened, and she toyed with the leather between her hands. “I…really thought I was going to hate it. The kneeling and the feeding and wearing this.”

“You did not?”

“No. I really didn’t.” Tasha looked down at it, then back up at Data. “You made me feel cared for. No one’s ever really done that before.”

“You are extremely adept at caring for yourself,” Data pointed out.

“I know.” Tasha smiled. “It’s just nice. Knowing that someone else wants to do it anyway. I know it was just for the mission, but…”

“Would you like to do it again?”

“Yes,” Tasha breathed. She closed her eyes. “Yeah. I really would.”

She felt the collar lift from her hands, and she tilted her head back on instinct. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes. Data had set the collar on the desk, one hand still on it. “I would prefer not to do it today,” he said softly. “I would like to have a discussion first, about what specific boundaries we would like to set, and that will have to wait until we have finished our reports.”

“But after that,” Tasha said.

Data nodded. “After that.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Tasha smiled. She gave Data another kiss, this one a little peck on the lips, just because she could. Then she picked up her PADD and gave it a little shake. “Better get moving, then. The sooner this is done…” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively, thrilled at the daring of the gesture, and laughed when Data appeared perplexed by it. She set the PADD in her lap, tucking her legs up onto the desk and crossing them as she got to work filling out her report. After all…she glanced at the collar again. The sooner she got this done, the sooner she could wear it. If you’d told her even two days ago that she’d be aching to wear a collar, Tasha would have laughed in your face. But here she was. And she couldn’t wait.


End file.
